Adultery
by DalekCyberAngel
Summary: This is about why Sherlock hates Anderson so much. Why would Sherlock hate Anderson so much? It can't just be because he's an idiot. There must be something more to it. This has been rewritten and reuploaded!
1. Chapter 1

AN: Okay, so, due to several requests this one-shot has been rewritten and turned into a multi-chaptered story. The start is pretty much the same but I've changed some parts and added other parts. I hope you enjoy this.

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John could tell Sherlock was in a bad mood, he was crabby and a lot harsher than normal. His face remained as impassive as ever but his eyes were a lot darker than normal, they were angry, not only angry but they looked sad as well. Of course, John wasn't an expert, he couldn't say anything on that matter, especially as there was not a chance in the world that Sherlock would open up to him. Never. Sherlock would rather die than open up; believing it's a sign of weakness.

Sherlock was sitting in the kitchen, looking intently down at his blood sample, what he was testing John didn't know, and he didn't particularly want to know, he'd learnt a long time ago not to ask Sherlock what his experiments were about, some of them made him want to be physically sick, especially the one with the foot and the acid. That one was revolting.

John had only just finished his breakfast when Sherlock phone rang. Sherlock answered but he certainly didn't sound happy. It was clear Sherlock hadn't slept; when he was irritated like this it usually meant he couldn't sleep the night before when he wanted sleep. This then meant John had to put up with the attitude Sherlock would have, which would be made worse than normal because Sherlock hasn't slept in four days, if he couldn't sleep last night, despite wanting to sleep, he will be beyond irritable today. As John put his plate in the sink he could hear Sherlock calling out to him.

"We have a case, John! Go get your coat!"

John sighed, he didn't want to go out to a crime scene, but it was only because of the mood Sherlock was in that he's choosing to go. Nobody is going to be able to stop him if he was to lash out, Lestrade might be able to, but sometimes the only person able to calm Sherlock down was John.

The taxi ride to the crime scene was silent, nothing unusual about that, the dark look in Sherlock's eyes still remained, bad news for everyone if Anderson is there and his face was still impassive. As the taxi came to a stop, John groaned, he could quite clearly see Donovan and Anderson standing by the police tape. He looked over at Sherlock; he was currently on his phone and said,

"Sherlock, promise me you will behave today."

A little hmm was the only response.

"No, Sherlock, I mean it! Donovan and Anderson are outside, I know you haven't slept and I know you're irritable but you need to behave!" John said in his commanding tone.

"I'll try to, John."

"No, Sherlock, you will not try to, you **will** behave."

"Fine." Sherlock replied while rolling his eyes.

The crime scene was of a man sprawled across the middle of the road, he was a young man, possibly in his early 30's, witnesses stated that he was simply running across the street when he fell down, and he's too young to have a heart attack, no wounds, no signs of an attack. Nothing. Just a perfectly healthy young man dropping down dead in the middle of the road.

The first few minutes went fine, Sherlock silently observed the scene, not saying a word to anyone but Lestrade, until Anderson threw an insult.

"Do you think the Freak's been laid yet?" John heard Donovan whisper to Anderson.

"Please. Not even a prostitute would bed with him."

John felt his anger rising, but remained calm. He looked towards Sherlock. Oh god. Sherlock's right eye was twitching as he fought to remain calm; his eyebrows were furrowed together in concentration to remain focused on the scene. He was looking at the victim's mobile phone, possibly his texts.

"I feel sorry for the parents. Raising a freak like that."

Sherlock immediately spun around. He has had it with Anderson's insults. He was beyond angry! He immediately took in the information about Anderson and Donovan and repeated it out loud.

"Oh look, Donovan's been scrubbing Anderson's floors yet again, took longer than before. Just hire yourself a maid, Anderson, or do you not want her to tell your wife what you've been doing? It would be so simple to get a divorce, Anderson! Now, what can I see about you?" Sherlock tapped his fingers across his chin as if thinking about it, "Charlotte's gone to visit her parents, and she's taken little Joanne with her, no wonder you and Donovan were at it all night. How long is she gone for? Just the weekend? Or the rest of the week? Weekend seems more likely." Sherlock's voice was filled with anger, "You, Anderson, **disgust** me." He spat out the word as if he had a bad taste in his mouth, "You've got a lovely wife and a wonderful little girl and you're willing to cheat on her with Donovan?"

"Sherlock, stop it now!" John demanded holding an arm out across Sherlock's chest to hold him back.

"How would you know? You've never met them!" Anderson shouted back.

Sherlock didn't listen, a wild glint was in his eyes and he seemed determined to prove something.

"Believe me, Anderson, I have. 3 months ago I was working on a private case, Harry and Stan wanted to find out what had happened to their older brother Tom. Do you know them? Charlotte certainly does, she helped me solve the case, and then she invited me into her home and allowed me to interact with Joanne. Personally, I never cared much about children, but Joanne is wonderful as is her mother. It's a shame I can't say that about her father." Sherlock replied, disgust written in his voice and his face. "People like you disgust me, Anderson. I despise adulterers, Anderson; they tear families apart and destroy people. How you can be so willing and so without guilt to cheat on a wonderful woman such as Charlotte is beyond my comprehension, which is why I am not allowing Charlotte to be so ignorant anymore." Sherlock spat.

Anderson paled, "W… What?" He stammered

"You heard me, Anderson."

"Sherlock, that's enough now." John ordered, trying to get into Sherlock line of sight but failing.

Sherlock acknowledged John's presence this time, "No, John, I will not stop. He needs to know this." Turning to Anderson he then replied, "Charlotte will no longer remain ignorant to you and Donovan, I will ensure that she is aware before she returns."

Anderson's jaw dropped, "S…. She'll take Joanne with her." He said weakly.

"And whose fault is that?" Sherlock said mockingly, "If you really cared about them you never would have got with Donovan." Sherlock turned to walk away; but he stopped and turned to Donovan, "I don't know who disgusts me more, Anderson for cheating on Charlotte, or you for being so willing to do so knowing he has a wife and child." Sherlock sneered at them one last time before walking to he could say anything though, Anderson spoke up once more.

"You won't do that, Freak! She'll take my little girl with her! I'll never see her again!" Anderson shouted, his voice was shaky and scared.

Sherlock chose to ignore Anderson. It was his own fault.

"Inspector, you will find that this murderer is someone within the Yard and that the reason is Adultery. The victim here had a wife, but their relationship was at the end of its tether, if he were cheating on her, his ring would be clean underneath and he'd have two perfumes on him, no. She's cheating on him; the murderer is either his wife or his wife's boyfriend, wife seems likely but I wouldn't rule either of them out. Love has always been a vicious motivator."

When Sherlock was finished, he walked away leaving John to fire out the apologies to Anderson, Donovan and Lestrade, explaining how Sherlock hadn't slept in 4 days and that he's extremely irritable because of it. By the time he was done, Sherlock was gone. John sighed, he'd have to get his own cab, and hope that Sherlock hadn't burned down the flat. As he hailed for one he heard his name get called out.

"John! John, wait!"

John turned and saw Lestrade rushing over, "Don't be so harsh on Sherlock when you get back. There's a good reason why he's so irritable today and it's not because he's tired. And don't go asking Mycroft either."

John stood there in confusion as Lestrade ran back to his crime scene.

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AN: What do you think? Is Sherlock out of character again? I don't know, I hope he isn't. Next update, possibly Saturday?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, have a nice day :)

~Steffii


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I'm sorry for the late update; I had a little block.

Warning: swearing and alcohol are in this chapter.

Anyway, enjoy Chapter 2 :)

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When John arrived at the flat, it was silent, he couldn't hear a thing. This could be for 3 different reasons, 1) Sherlock was asleep, and John desperately hoped he was as the man hasn't slept in 4 days, 2) Sherlock is thinking or in his mind palace, not bad, but he really should be asleep, 3) Sherlock wasn't home, which was something John desperately hoped wasn't true. John rushed up the stairs, and entered the flat; no one was in the living room. There were signs that Sherlock had entered though, his gloves were on the table, Sherlock was wearing them at the crime scene, so he had definitely returned home. John looked around the living room; there was nothing else to suggest Sherlock was here, only the gloves, so he tried the kitchen. Nothing. No sign that Sherlock had done anything in the kitchen, next step was the bedroom. Yes, Sherlock had definitely entered his bedroom. The only reason John knew this was because one of his desk drawers was wide open, Sherlock never left them open, always keeping them shut. So Sherlock had come home, removed his gloves, entered his bedroom, taken something and gone straight back out. Why won't someone tell him what was going on? He felt so confused right now.

Lestrade knows something, as does Mycroft, but Lestrade told him not to contact Mycroft as Mycroft wouldn't tell him anything, but that doesn't mean Lestrade won't. If sleep isn't why Sherlock's so irritable then what is? Sherlock despised adulterers, this was not new information, Sherlock had expressed this when John brought home Katie who had turned out to be engaged but continued the relationship with her when she promised that they were separating soon. Sherlock then didn't talk to him for 6 days after the incident, John never did find out why, he simply believed he was in a mood and the lack of cases were the reason. Well, now he knows why. Sherlock doesn't just despise adulterers; he despises the other for allowing it to happen. John shook his head. He was going off track, he needed to find Sherlock. Pulling out his phone, he sent a text. The reply came immediately.

'_Nowhere that requires your concern. – SH'_

'_I'm worried, Sherlock. Can you please tell me someone's with you?'_

'_Mummy. – SH'_

John released a breath he never realised he was holding. At least he was with someone that wouldn't get him into any kinds of trouble whatsoever.

'_When will you be back?'_

'_Tonight. – SH'_

John was glad that Sherlock was with his mother, maybe she could get him to sleep or eat or something beneficial to his health. John put his phone in his pocket and turned to the kitchen, before he could do anything, he heard footsteps rushing up the stairs. A moment later, Lestrade came rushing in.

"John, have you seen Sherlock?" He asked.

"No, he says he's with his mother." John replied.

Lestrade then looked stunned, "What do you mean his with his mother?"

"That's what he told me. He's with his mother and he'll return tonight." John explained slowly, confused at Lestrade's reaction.

"Not possible." He mumbled, "All right, thank you, John." Lestrade said as he rushed out of the door.

If there was ever a time in John's life where he was so confused he literally couldn't form a coherent thought that time is right now. John has never felt so confused in his life. Why does Sherlock always make things so complicated? Can't he just be normal like everyone else?

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_Little 9 year old Sherlock sat downstairs in the living room with a book in his hands. He always loves a mystery book; sometimes he was able to solve the mystery before the other characters in the book! Other times him a while, but he'll get better; soon he'll be just as good as Mycroft! He can't wait until he's as good as his big brother!_

_A smash came from the kitchen. Probably another one of Mummy's glass again. Sherlock's mood fell. His parents were arguing again, it will end with Father storming out of the house and Mummy drinking until she passes out. It usually does._

"_Your job finished an hour ago! You should have been here 40 minutes ago; it doesn't take that long to drive home!" His mother shouted._

"_I popped out for a meal! I was hungry." His father shouted back. He was lying, again._

"_Bullshit! You were shagging your co-worker again, weren't you?" His mother screeched._

"_Why would I fuck her when I can have you?"_

"_Piss off! You can go die for all I care!"_

_Sherlock sighed, stood up and walked upstairs to his bedroom. The arguments were only getting worse, he couldn't wait for the day they get divorced, it would be so much better than listening to them argue all the time. In 10 minutes his father will storm out of the house, go to his best friend's house, and come back at 10. His mother will start drinking, alternating between wine and vodka, and pass out roughly 9:45, depending on the time taken until the next drink. Mycroft wouldn't appear downstairs until the next day, unless he wanted food, which is quite regularly, but less and less as he now takes more with him._

_Sherlock heard a door slam, Father was gone. He heard something smash, Mummy was angry._

_Sherlock didn't go downstairs until an hour later, by then his mother was completely drunk and close to passing out. She's drunk more than normal, Sherlock could see the bottles sitting on the side, all of them were empty, she had one in her hands right now. But her hands were shaking so much she couldn't get the alcohol into the glass and the glass to her mouth without getting it all over the table. He could barely see her face, her black hair was covering it and her brown eyes were closed. When they opened Sherlock could see that they were glazed and bloodshot._

"_Sh'rlock, what're you doin' down 'ere?" She slurred._

"_I'm thirsty, Mummy." Sherlock lied, not moving from his position by the door._

"_You shoul' be in be'." She said._

"_It's 8pm, Mother." It hurt Sherlock to see his mother like this, even more so because it was his fault._

"_Nooo." She whispered._

"_You should go to bed, Mother." Sherlock replied, walking towards her and grabbing her arm._

"_I nee' to drin' more." She whined looking at the half empty bottle of vodka._

"_You've had enough." Sherlock said sadly, pulling his mother away from the table._

_Sherlock knew he wouldn't be able to get his mother to her room, he was only 9. Instead, he settled for the recliner in the living room, it wasn't that far away; he wouldn't have to help her up the stairs. Slowly, they walked to the living room together, Sherlock had his hands on her arms to keep her upright, she stumbled frequently but eventually made it to the recliner. The moment it tilted back she was asleep. Passed out seemed more likely, but at least she wasn't awake. Sherlock pulled the blanket from off the top of the seat and covered her with it. He never enjoyed seeing her like this. Sherlock quickly tiptoed upstairs, being careful not to make a sound, she wouldn't hear him anyway.  
_

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Sherlock was sat down on the grass, his legs crossed but pulled to his chest, looking for the world like an overgrown child. In front of him was a headstone, a bunch of blue Statices' and pink Carnations leaning against it. The message was clear, that person will always be remembered and never forgotten. He wasn't lying when he said he was with Mummy. He was with her, just not in the way you'd think.

_Violet Holmes._

_14__th__ July 1950 – 26__th__ August 1993._

When the first raindrop hit his nose, was when Sherlock was drawn from his thoughts, he looked up at the sky. Grey clouds were around, hovering directly above him, refusing to move, as if they were above him on purpose. It was raining when it had happened. When he'd come home dripping wet from the rain, found her passed out on the kitchen floor, barely breathing and seizing, blood slowly covering the floor, draining from her head. Sherlock sat there for a moment, his mind completely blank, as it always is when he visits, just staring at the headstone. When he was finished, he stood up; he looked down once more and turned around to walk away. He pulled on an annoyed look when he met Lestrade at the gate of the cemetery.

"John tell you where I am?" He said sounding completely annoyed

"Not exactly. He told me you were with your mother, I figured out the rest for myself."

"Well done, Lestrade. You were able to use your brain for once." Sherlock replied with a tone that was belittling him.

Lestrade forced himself to hold his tongue, Sherlock was irritable and tired. He's got a good reason to be in this mood.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay." Lestrade replied truthfully.

"Don't be so dull. I'm fine." Sherlock sped up, walking ahead of Lestrade.

"Where are you going?" Lestrade called.

"To see Charlotte and Joanne, I will not allow them to remain ignorant any longer." Sherlock shouted back while hailing for a cab.

Before Lestrade could reply, Sherlock had climbed into the cab and was already on his way.

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AN: I apologise if the drunk slurring is off, I've never been around a drunk person, and I've never been drunk myself, so I literally have no idea what it sounds like.

I did my research with the flowers though, pink Carnations – I'll never forget you. Blue Statice – Remembrance. As I had no idea what flowers someone would put on their mother's grave.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Have a nice day :)

~Steffii


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